Prisoners of War
by LittleBooLost
Summary: When Tom falls to his death, his fiancée Nicki finds herself grieving and alone, and facing her first pregnancy. After eleven months of emotional turmoil, she receives a phone call out of the blue and discovers an unexpected friend, ally and lifeline. /Previously titled Apologise/
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: New story. Not sure when my others will be updated, though I assure you I have three chapters in the works. I'm simply not happy with them yet. I was determined to get this up tonight, so if the last few paragraphs are lacking in quality, its because I'm so tired. Please review.**

'Hey,'

Nicki jumped slightly as Tom appeared behind her, brushing his fingers against her hips. The small, sudden jolt of movement caused the orange juice she'd been pouring to seep everywhere, making her hands sticky. She sighed, and twisted quickly around on the spot to face Tom.

'Hey!'

The word fell from his lips a second time as she wiped her hands on his shirt. It was a light blue colour, crisply ironed, and a relatively new purchase. The additional orange streaks made his jaw drop, and he plucked at the shirt, examining it closely.

His fiancée smiled widely at his expression. 'Now you know not to sneak up on me.'

Tom looked up, affronted. 'I didn't sneak!'

Nicki raised her hands in surrender, laughing. 'Fine. Whatever. Look, shall we just collect our stuff and go home? I'm starving.'

Tom paused, gazing into her soft, chartreuse coloured eyes. They were framed by long, thick lashes, which she had inexpertly coated in mascara that morning. The eye makeup had since smudged onto her eyelids at some point; a little imperfection he found cute and endearing.

He cupped her face in his hands, and Nicki leaned into his touch, exhaling quietly. Her eyes fluttered shut as he brushed her cheekbones with his thumbs. 'You are beautiful,' Tom whispered, brushing her coral coloured, plump lips with his fingertips.

Nicki opened her eyes, brows raised slightly in a mocking frown. 'Goddammit Clarkson.' His hands fell away from her face as she spoke. 'Just kiss me already!'

In a single step, she closed the distance between them and crashed her lips down on his. He responded immediately, wrapping his arms around her waist and lifting her onto the counter. Nicki raked her fingers through his tawny, downy hair, oblivious to the spilt juice she was sitting in.

She gave a miserable whine as Tom pulled away.

'Nicks, it's quarter to four, someone could walk in at any time. Can you at least wait until we get back to the house?'

Pouting, Nicki hopped down from the counter, pulling her handbag with her. She watched as Tom retrieved his briefcase and they left the staffroom together in companionable silence, hand in hand.

Nicki had the misfortune to look up as they walked into the car park and she screamed piercingly, ripping her hand from Tom's and dropping her bag. Tom followed her gaze upwards. His heart stopped.

Kyle Stack was teetering on the roof.

There was a terrible stretch of silence as Nicki clapped her hands over her mouth, swallowing her sobs, and Tom just stared. That was when some sort of instinct kicked in and he sprinted forwards, his feet pounding against the asphalt and his heart pounding in his chest.

He yanked the door open and continued running, through the hallways and up countless flights of stairs, pushing himself to go even faster. A single numbing thought accompanied him. _What if I'm not quick enough?_

_What if I'm not quick enough?_

_What if I'm not quick enough? _

The door to Chalky's classroom screeched against the linoleum floor as he shoved it open with his shoulder. Tom bolted through the line of desks, slipping slightly on abandoned worksheets, his sights set on the full-length window. The wind was swinging it open and closed, creating a series of bangs. He dived through the gap as a particularly strong gust of wind manifested itself out of nowhere. The glass splintered. A single shard was embedded in his hand; the same hand Nicki had been clinging to moments earlier.

Tom didn't process the pain. He looked about and noticed Kyle. The teenager had crouched down and was leaning so far forwards he was practically defying the laws of gravity. There were raindrops on his face but it wasn't raining. Sunlight was breaking through the clouds above them.

Tom's shoulders sagged and the adrenaline in his veins disintegrated. Grief filled up his body, the emotion intensifying with each heavy step he took. 'Kyle.' The name tasted foreign in his mouth. To be honest, he wasn't used to caring about this boy. 'It's time to come downstairs.'

Kyle looked up, his eyes wide and iced over with tears. His body was shuddering with sobs that had been lingering in the pit of his stomach for months. 'No. Leave me alone.'

'I can't do that.' Tom continued walking forwards. Kyle shuffled closer to the edge. 'I'm not going to let you jump, Kyle. Whatever's wrong, we can sort it out. Okay?'

Suddenly, the boy began to cry, standing swiftly upwards. Tom took another few steps forward, but Kyle shot him a warning look and he stilled.

'Why shouldn't I jump?' It took Tom a second to realize the question had been directed at him, but Kyle hadn't allowed him time to answer.

'I don't see why I shouldn't, really. Me dad's in prison. Mum's dead. Got no brothers or sisters who need looking after. Me grandparents don't even know me. Nobody's going to miss me-'

'Kyle. Take a look down there, okay?' Tom gestured to the car park below them. 'Can you see what's happening? Half of your teachers are down there now. Most of them are crying. Hardly any are even looking up.' Kyle blinked a few times, then squeezed his eyes shut.

'Do you think I'd be up here if I didn't care about you? If I didn't think I had potential. Do you think _any of us_-'

Tom swung his arm wildly, a sweeping gesture to indicate all the adults on the premises. It was a stupid idea. He lost his balance. He stumbled forward. He toppled over the edge of the roof.

Nicki screamed again – but this was a terrible, feral cry that burned her throat. She shoved Chalky – who had wrapped his arm around her shoulders only two minutes ago – away, and sprinted forwards to where Tom was crumpled on the floor.

She dropped to her knees beside him. Pushing his hair back, Nicki peppered his forehead with light kisses. Her hand sought out his, and the couple clung to each other as Tom wheezed heavily, attempting to speak.

'It's okay,' she shushed him gently, but he kept trying. After a few seconds of an almost grievous silence, Tom thrust his arm out, and his hand connected with Nicki's stomach. Tears came to her eyes, blurring her vision. She held his shaking hand to her abdomen with both of her own.

'Nicki.' It seemed the tender contact had suddenly given Tom a new-found strength to speak. His deep eyes met Nicki's and he squeezed her hand a final time._ 'You're going to be a wonderful mother.'_

He exhaled, and then he was gone.

**A/N2: Next chapter up ASAP. **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Another update, please review. I hope you enjoy! It's a lot longer than usual, hope that makes up for the long wait haha! Chapter 3 will hopefully be up sooner:3 xx**

'Morning, everyone!' Christine's voice reverberated across the shabby staffroom as she headed to her usual seat. The atmosphere in the room was sour, as it usually was on a Monday morning. Her mood dropped instantly, and she slumped down in her armchair. Christine gazed out of the window sullenly. The skies were grey and it had begun drizzling. Raindrops were racing each other down the dirty windowpane.

'Hey, Christine?'

She turned in her seat. Simon was navigating his way through the chairs and small coffee tables. 'I don't suppose you've heard from Nicki recently?'

Her brow furrowed. 'No, not since Tom's funeral…' Her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach as a wave of realization crashed over her. It was over a year since he'd fallen to his death.

Simon didn't notice the emotion which flitted across Christine's face. 'Right, well, that's okay. There are no English teachers looking for work at the moment, so just give her a call and try to convince her to come back.' He pivoted on his heel and headed back to Sue, thick curls bouncing with each step.

Christine glared coldly at his retreating back. In the months following Simon's promotion to the role of head teacher, his ego had begun to grow – and rapidly. She found herself disliking him more each passing day. The rest of the faculty seemed to have similar attitudes, and as Christine got up to leave, she was grateful for the sympathetic smiles which Maggie and George directed at her.

Having made her way to the quiet privacy of the cooler, she rummaged in her handbag and pulled out her phone. It was cold against the warmth of her soft hand. Christine scrolled through the short list of contacts, and before guilt and nerves could stop her, she pressed _Nicki._

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The trances were becoming more frequent. Nicki wouldn't admit it to anyone – especially not herself – but deep down they were beginning to worry her. It didn't take a genius to work out what the cause could be. Money troubles. There was an insubstantial amount of savings in her bank account, and they were all Nicki had left. She'd never been a wealthy person, but she'd never been this worse-off, either.

The brunette was lying on her side in bed when her phone rang. She ignored it, balling her thin blanket up in her fists. After a minute the mobile rang off, and Nicki sighed in relief, rolling over onto her back. There was barely ten seconds of silence before the incessant noise began again.

'Bloody Hell!' She swore quietly to herself and reached for the mobile. Her brow furrowed in confusion when she noticed the name on the screen – **Christine M, Work **– and before she could stop herself, curiosity made her hit the answer button.

'Christine?' Nicki's voice was hoarse from speaking so little, and she coughed to clear her throat. Once she'd started though, she couldn't stop: as per usual, and within seconds was doubled over by the force. After almost forty seconds of coughing, a splatter of blood came up and Nicki groaned. She wiped her hand and then her mouth on her dirty t-shirt, and raised the mobile back to her ear.

'Nicki?! Are you okay? You sound awful!'

The brunette frowned. 'Thanks, Christine. _Charming. _Why are you calling anyway?' Her voice took on a harsh, brash, angry tone.

'I'm – I'm sorry.' Christine stuttered momentarily, slightly hurt. 'I'm sorry. I was just wondering how you're doing…? I mean, we haven't talked in a while.'

Her voice trailed off and Nicki barked a derisive laugh. 'Yeah, _eleven months _is quite a while, isn't it_. _If you were really worried about how I was, you'd have contacted me sometime sooner.'

On the other side of the phone Christine pursed her lips and pinched the bridge of her nose. Now she was feeling even more guilty than before. When she spoke again her voice was quiet.

'I know. That was wrong of me. I'm angry at myself, and I should have gotten in contact sooner. I understand if you want to hang up and never talk to me again, but I am concerned for your wellbeing, especially after hearing you cough like that.'

'S'okay.' Nicki grumbled reluctantly. Despite the exasperation she was feeling, it had never been in her nature to hold grudges and she wasn't about to start now.

Christine smirked to herself, directing her gaze to the clock above her. She still had ten minutes until school started.

'You haven't even answered my question. How are you doing?'

Nicki huffed under her breath, perching on the edge of her bed – which was really just a mattress on the floor. This was exactly the question she had been trying to avoid. 'I'm doing okay, you know. Working hard. Keeping busy… for God's sake.'

She stood up abruptly and headed over to the baby carrier at the foot of her mattress. The three month old infant laid inside had suddenly starting bawling. Nicki knelt down and scooped him up, balancing her mobile in the crook of her neck. 'What's the matter with you, young man, hey?' She bounced him gently as she resumed her spot on the mattress.

'You've got a baby?!' Christine wondered for a second if she was going mad. Nicki didn't seem like the kind of woman to have children. A sudden thought occurred to her. 'Is he….you know?'

'Tom's? Yeah.' Nicki responded to the question bitterly. She hated to even think about her deceased fiancée, and talking about him was worse. A thousand times worse. Christine was silent on the other end of the phone and Nicki basked in it, busily unpopping the baby's sleep suit in order to check his nappy.

'What's his name?' The conversation had quickly taken an awkward turn.

'Kyle. He's gonna be three months old next week.' The baby was sobbing so hard his face was going red and Nicki lay down, cuddling him in close.

'Aw.' The blonde woman paused, looking down at her hands. 'Did Tom know?'

'Mmhm.' Nicki gazed down at Kyle, running her fingers through the soft tufts of hair that so mirrored his father's. 'They look completely alike, you know.'

'I'd like to see that. Well, see him, and you, at some point when you aren't busy.'

The brunette scoffed. 'Come over when you like, I'm _never _busy.'

Christine frowned, narrowing her eyes. 'Five minutes ago you said you were working hard and keeping busy. Which is it?'

Her breath caught in her throat as she realised her mistake.

'Nicki, its fine, you know? You don't have to be able to cope. It's only been a year, and you're a new mother. I understand how hard it is to be a single mum.'

'You don't understand though!' Nicki snapped again, frustration coursing through her veins. 'You didn't watch the father of your son fall to his death, and you didn't nearly lose your own child because of your own _fucking _stupidity!' A sob burst through as she shouted, and her grip on Kyle tightened unintentionally.

'I do understand though. I was raped by the father of my son, okay? Connor's dad should have been his granddad. Connor's father left me to cope with the pregnancy alone, because he thought I'd slept with his own father willingly. I can't even begin to imagine the hurt and pain you're going through, but I've been through it too, to some degree, and I will listen to anything you tell me. I will help you. Now – what's your address?'

Nicki cried silently through the entire monologue, and swiped half-heartedly at her eyes before she spoke. '22B Astling Flat on Astling Drive. It's in Edinburgh.'

'I'll see you in about an hour, okay?' Christine collected her bag off the desk in front of her.

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The block of flats was massive, with peeling, whitewash paint and mould growing up the sides. The bins outside were overflowing, and Christine had come close to almost knocking a total of three hooded teenagers off their bikes when they sped in front of her car. The neighbourhood was nasty and run-down. Christine began to wonderwhy on Earth Nicki had left the comforts of Greenock to come _here. _

She parked her car and stepped out of it gingerly, carefully avoiding a puddle of congealing vomit, before hurrying up to the huge building. Christine pulled the door – which was surprisingly heavy – open and went in search of Nicki's flat.

It didn't take long to find and when did, she took a deep breath to compose herself, before rapping on the door. Nicki opened it almost immediately. Christine realised that she must have been waiting for her appearance right outside of it. Before the brunette could speak, she had stepped over the threshold and wrapped her arms around Nicki.

Nicki stiffened under her touch for a moment; but after a few seconds relaxed and laid her head on Christine's shoulder in an almost childlike fashion.

'Thank you.' The word was barely audible, and Christine smiled her response as Nicki moved away. She didn't know what to say. The phone call they'd shared had been a completely inaccurate representation of Nicki and how she was coping – when they embraced Christine had realised with a start how skinny the younger woman had become. Her appearance was shocking too, hair greasy and knotty, her jogging bottoms were slipping off her hips and her t-shirt was covered in baby vomit. There was a splatter of blood on it too.

Nicki smiled shyly back at her. 'Look – do you want to come in so I can shut the door? Keep the warm in, you know?'

'Oh – right, yeah.' Christine stepped out of the way and Nicki shut the door, taking care to double lock it. 'You can never be too careful here, you know…' the brunette tugged at her jogging bottoms slightly as she spoke, turning on the spot and heading into another room. Christine followed her curiously, and her eyes widened at what she saw.

The room was tiny, and the only furniture in it was a small, single mattress. There was a tiny blue carrycot at the foot of it, and open suitcase which had been chucked in the corner. Nicki headed straight over to the carrycot. Christine was still trying to take in her surroundings, and she didn't even notice Nicki walking back towards her.

'Here he is….' She adjusted the weight of the baby in her arms as she spoke, and he began to whimper.

'Hm? Can I? Christine reached out towards the infant, who had grabbed a fistful of his mother's hair and was refusing to let go.

'Sure – just let me – ouch!' Nicki disentangled the tiny hand from her hair, and then laid the baby in the blonde woman's arms.

'Aww!' Christine cooed as Kyle wrapped his hand around her finger and smiled at Nicki. 'I see what you mean about him looking like Tom. They're spitting image of each other.'

The brunette nodded and grinned back at her, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. 'They are, definitely.'

Christine diverted her gaze back down to Kyle. 'He has your eyes though.'

'Do you think so?' Nicki stepped closer, studying her son's angelic face.

'Yes – look at those long lashes! And that green colour. I'd kill for eyes like that, you know.'

Kyle interrupted their conversation with a sudden cry, stretching his hands back towards his mother.

'I think he's hungry,' Christine muttered as she placed Kyle back in Nicki's arms, 'I'll go and wait somewhere else while you feed him.'

'No, it's fine.' Nicki began to move into the small kitchenette, where she opened a cupboard and pulled a carton of baby formula. There was a moment of silence while she unscrewed the lid, and then she swore.

'What's wrong?' Christine was instantly concerned.

'There's no bloody baby formula left!'

'Hey, calm down, it's fine! We can go and pick some up-'

Nicki shrugged off the hand Christine had placed on her shoulder. 'It's not! I've got no money at the moment! I've put all my savings for this month towards the rent! And nappies are so bloody expensive…..' She pressed a hand over her eyes.

'Can you not even afford baby formula?' Christine was horrified at just how bad Christine had it.

'I can, usually. My money goes towards the rent, and wherever's left is for Kyle's formula and nappies, but I ran out of money last week when he needed a new Babygro!'

The blonde woman turned away and headed towards the fridge, pulling it open forcefully. There was nothing inside. She turned back to Nicki and the brunette woman sighed. 'If I'm lucky, sometimes I manage to nick a couple of packets of biscuits.'

'Nicki, you can't keep living like this! You've lost so much weight – it's unhealthy, the amount! It must be affecting your health. Is that what's causing your cough? In time, these standards are going to start affecting Kyle's health too. If you're not coping, just come back to Greenock and move in with me. Tonight.'


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Finally updated;) It took me a while to write this, and I did so several times, but I'm so pleased with it now! I've got a good storyline established in my head, but I'm more than happy to take any requests**** I hope you enjoy this, and please leave a review!:3 xx**

A strangled scream reverberated through the house, and Christine woke with a start. She sat up swiftly, heart pounding with fear. Who was it? What was happening? She buried the urge to curl up in the foetal position under the covers, and reached over to switch on the lamp.

The blonde woman wiped her eyes. There was silence, now. Christine regarded the layout of her bedroom, wondering if the cry had simply been a figment of her imagination. A feeling of uneasiness had settled over her though; and she decided to get up and investigate.

Stepping over the various items of clothing strewn about the carpeted floor, Christine headed for the landing. As she made her way down the hallway, there was another terrified shout. It was followed by a series of small whimpers and quiet crying.

'_Nicki.' _

The name was a breath on her lips, a reserved realization. The blonde woman quickened her pace and headed into the spare bedroom, not bothering to knock. Nicki was curled up small on the bed, covers drawn to her chin. Her body was shaking with barely audible sobs.

Christine sighed. She'd had a feeling that she would witness Nicki break down sooner or later. She flicked the light on as she stepped into the room, but stopped short when she realised Nicki wasn't actually awake.

The blonde woman nibbled on her lower lip nervously. She had no experience with nightmares, and was at a complete loss of what to do. She observed uncomfortably as Nicki whimpered miserably. She was beginning to mumble through her tears. After a moment's hesitation Christine moved forwards and knelt beside the bed.

'Help me. I can't move, help!' Nicki's words were slurred with emotion, her expression grievous. Her skin was paler than usual and clammy, and her hands were balled into angry little fists.

Christine reached out and stroked Nicki's soft hair in an attempt to comfort the younger woman. The action felt stupid. Insignificant, like it was having no impact. But was there really anything else she could do? She paused when Nicki wrapped her hot, slim fingers around her wrist and stared down at her. The dark-haired northern woman gazed back at her, suddenly awake. Her eyes were wide and unblinking.

'Tom?' The word was nothing more than a feeble, confused murmur. Christine shook her head in response. She wished it was he sitting where she was. 'No. Look, just go back to sleep…' The blonde woman made to leave.

'Tom, please don't go. I can't sleep without you.' Tears glittered in Nicki's emerald coloured eyes, and Christine gave in. 'Fine. Just a second.' She got up to switch off the light while Nicki shuffled over. Christine cursed the words she had just spoken, slipping under the warm covers. Nicki was obviously still half asleep. When morning came, the brunette would probably wake and come to the conclusion that they'd slept together – or that Christine had taken advantage her.

_Just a few minutes, _the blonde woman told herself. _Just until she falls asleep properly._

Unfortunately it wasn't that easy. Before Christine could stop herself, she drifted off just moments after Nicki.

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There was a cacophony of noise filling the room. Christine's eyes fluttered open, painfully slowly. It took her a second to realise where she was – and what was going on. She was in the spare bedroom. That was the first thing that occurred to her. There was sunlight streaming in through the gap in the curtains, so it must be morning. That was the second thing she worked out. And third? The bed was shaking from the sheer force of Nicki's body shuddering; the brunette was wracked with a horrific fit of coughing.

Christine sat up and flipped the lamp on, before turning back round. There were splatters of blood all over the sheets, and both sets of pillows. She sighed, sliding an arm around Nicki and helping her sit up. The brunette's skin was pallid and clammy, tears streaming down her gaunt continued to cough for a few more moments before slumping against Christine. It was obvious she was exhausted.

'Come on, let's get up.' Christine began to get out of bed, pulling Nicki with her.

'What? Why?'

'I want to take you to the hospital.'

'No!' Nicki lunged sideways out of Christine's grasp.

'Yes, it's for your own good.'

'I'm fine, stop fussing!'

'It could be something serious. Do you think I'd be able to live with myself if we were too late to find out what? Then there's the weight issue to deal with too – you're far too thin for someone who gave birth three months ago.'

'I nearly didn't.' Nicki's voice was small and childlike. She'd moved out of Christine's reach and had drawn her knees to her chest, suddenly looking a thousand times more ill and vulnerable.

'What?' Christine's throat was dry, and the word was a hoarse whisper.

'Kyle. Two weeks before he was born, I nearly lost him. Nearly killed him, really. I fell down the stairs.'

Christine was silent for a second. 'Is that what your nightmare was about?'

'Huh?'

'Your nightmare. You were screaming for help in your sleep.'

'I don't remember it..….is that why you're in here?' Nicki gestured at the duvet, which was still partially covering Christine's legs.

'Err….yeah. Yes, it is. You wouldn't let me leave and..'

'It's fine. Don't worry about it.'

The flow of conversation was interrupted by a sudden wail from across the room. Nicki sprang up, scrambling over the bed in her haste to reach her son.

'Hello, little guy, how did you sleep?' Nicki spun round suddenly, fixing Christine with a confused stare. 'I didn't wake him up, last night did I?'

Christine smiled and shook her head. 'No, he's been dead to the world until now.'

'Oh, good.' She turned and took him from the crib that Christine had laboriously constructed the night before. 'Shall we go and make breakfast?'

The blonde nodded, walking over to the door. 'Sure.'

'_And then the hospital,'_ she thought, but didn't say it aloud.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Another update :D Thank you to Neve (Daydreams-About-Fallen-Stars) and Jen (Mini Peacelet) for helping me with this chapter and re-instating my self-belief when I got sulky about writing xD And thanks to everybody else who has followed this fic and reviewed!:) I hope you enjoy this instalment :p xx**

'I don't care what you say. I'm not going.'

It had been three days after Christine's initial offer to take Nicki to hospital. Nicki's reluctance had made Christine insist, but the brunette continued to disagree, refuse and argue, and before long the pair could barely have a conversation before a screaming match began.

Nicki adjusted her bulky sweater as she spoke. It hid her thin frame well, which was precisely what she wanted.

'The doctors, then?' Christine was determined not to give up. She wasn't fazed when Nicki looked up and fixed her with an icy glare.

'Hear me out first, okay? It'll be a short appointment, and you won't have to wait for hours like you do at the hospital. Kyle can have a check-up too – it's practical!'

Nicki shrugged in response. 'There's nothing wrong with either of us.' She raked her fingers through her shoulder-length hair, rapidly becoming irritated. 'You can take him if you must, but I am not going anywhere near that bloody clinic!'

'Don't get angry.' Christine held up a hand, trying to get the brunette's temper to simmer down. 'Come on, we won't be there long. You do want to go get better.' Christine paused as a sudden thought occurred to her. 'Don't you?'

Nicki licked her lips and folded her arms in a tense manner. 'Well…. Tom's dead. So I may as well be-' She stopped as a shadow passed over Christine's face. Nerves fluttered in her stomach.

'Don't say that.' The blonde woman stalked forwards, anger flashing in her eyes. She sat down on the sofa next to Nicki – almost too close – and placed her hands on the brunette's bony shoulders. Nicki found herself too scared to look away.

'Don't you ever say that again. You should not be and you do not deserve to be dead. I understand and I emphasise with you Nicki, because I've been in your place before. The voices said exactly the same thing to me too when I was your age and when Connor was just as small as Kyle is now.'

Christine stopped talking for a second, gazing searchingly into Nicki's eyes. 'You need to think of Kyle. If you die he'll be an orphan. Neither of you deserve that because you deserve each other.'

Nicki looked down at her hands for a moment, suddenly ashamed. Then she looked over at the navy-blue carrycot, positioned just a few feet away. She watched as her son's eyes fluttered open, just for a second, and as he yawned, tiny pink mouth forming an 'O'. Kyle stretched his little arms out, reaching for the moon. He dropped them, continuing to sleep with his arms above his head and his face turned to the side.

'_Just like Tom,' _Nicki thought, and for a second she wanted to laugh.

The brunette looked back up at Christine, peering through her long, thick lashes. 'Okay. You're right.' The words were only a whisper, but she knew Christine had heard because the older woman squeezed her shoulders comfortingly and smiled sadly.

Nicki returned the smile. 'You win.'

Christine frowned slightly. 'You want me to take you to the doctors?'

Nicki nodded her response. 'But can we go to the cemetery first?' Her voice wavered slightly.

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Nicki stroked the chalky petal of the daffodil as Christine killed the car engine. She could feel tears prickling at the corners of her eyes already and there was a lump in her throat. Nicki blinked the tears back forcefully, swallowing hard. Some of the pigment from the flower had rubbed onto the pad of her thumb, and the streak of colour captured her attention.

Christine turned in her seat, looking towards the back of the car. Nicki hadn't responded to her name, and the blonde woman quickly realised she'd sunk into some kind of trance.

'Hey,' Christine mumbled, placing her hand on Nicki's knee. 'Are you okay?'

The brunette looked up. The rims of her eyes were red. 'Course.'

Christine frowned, unconvinced. 'Do you want me to come with you?'

Nicki shook her head, unclipping the seatbelt. She climbed out of the car wordlessly.

The slam of the door reverberated around the tiny vehicle, and Christine flinched slightly. Loud noises always startled her. She looked down at Kyle, who's carseat had been strapped into the passenger seat beside her. He babbled up at her happily, and Christine sighed in response, stroking his soft cheek. 'I know, your poor mummy is a little enigma, isn't she?'

The gravel path crunched underfoot as Nicki neared her fiancée's grave. She hadn't seen it since the day of his funeral, and she began to tremble, her emotions beginning to get the better of her. The headstone was black, smooth and cold to the touch, Nicki realised as she traced the inscription carefully.

_Tom Clarkson. _

_Beloved fiancée, father, teacher and friend._

_19__th__ March 1974 – 4__th__ July 2014._

_Always in our hearts._

A single tear meandered down her cheek and the brunette fell to her knees. She laid the daffodil on the bare grave. It was clear nobody had visited for months.

'You always did like the colour yellow.' Nicki paused, and then started to sob. 'I'm sorry for not coming sooner! I wanted to come, I really did, but I had to move somewhere cheaper because I didn't have the money to pay our – my - bills. It's a stupid excuse. I'm so sorry. I miss you so much.' She slipped a hand into the pocket of her jumper, pulling out the stacks of letters she'd written on an almost daily basis in Edinburgh. 'Wrote you these.' Nicki placed them beside the daffodil, and after a moment's thought, laid the delicate flower on top.

She sat quietly for a few minutes in the cool spring air, just thinking. 'I had our baby three months ago. A little boy – Kyle. He's just like you. He has your hair and he snores way too much.' Nicki giggled through her tears as a random thought occurred to her. 'Maybe I should get his adenoids removed.'

She continued to sit there for half an hour, voicing her thoughts to the silent air. It was only when her teeth were chattering and her hands were blue that Nicki reluctantly got to her feet. 'I need to go now.' She crouched, tucking a small, crumpled photo of Kyle under the stack of letters securely. 'It's too cold. I should have wrapped up more.' She scuffed her ankle boot in the dried mud. 'I'll be back soon, and I'll stay for longer next time…..I've left you a photo of Kyle!'

The brunette called over her shoulder as she began the trek back to the car, wrapping her arms around herself to keep warm. Nicki smiled to herself as sunlight broke through a gap in the clouds.

'_But I'm sure you've seen him already.' _


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: New update, yay! I got a little lazy during the course of writing this, which hopefully explains the delay in posting this chapter. I do hope you enjoy this –there's an itty bit of drama, with plenty more to come in the next chapter, as well as hopefully the introduction of some more characters. Drop me a review and any requests you might have; I'll do my best to work them in. NOW – on with the story!:)**

'_Miss Nicole Boston, Room Three, Doctor Parks.'_

The voice was tinny over the speakers, and Nicki twisted in her seat. Her eyes crossed the shabby waiting room, seeking out Christine, and her heart sank. Christine was still outside, arguing with Simon on the phone. It was clear she hadn't heard the announcement. Despite every nerve in her body screaming _'No!': _Nicki got up from the uncomfortable seat and left the room.

She reached Room Three in seconds. The door handle was cool to the touch and came as a relief to Nicki's burning fingers. She twisted it quickly and stepped into the room.

'Um – Doctor Parks, right?'

The woman in question looked up from the keyboard, an easy smile gracing her features. She was dark skinned with sleek, shiny, ochre coloured hair twisted into a bun.

'That's me, come in, sit down.'

Nicki obliged, her apprehensiveness already drifting away. 'Nicki,' she introduced herself as she placed the baby carrier on the floor, bouncing it gently with her foot. Kyle squealed with delight, beaming an infectious, gummy smile.

Doctor Parks leaned back in her seat. 'Okay, Nicki. What's the problem?'

'I keep coughing-' The brunette pressed a hand to her chest as she spoke –' and once I start, I can never stop. Blood comes up too. A lot of it.'

'How often does it happen, say, on a daily basis?'

'Six, maybe seven times a day?'

The doctor frowned, leaning forwards to type. 'Right, and can you describe the blood to me?'

Nicki couldn't help the repulsed expression on her face. Was this woman for real?

'I need to know. Don't be embarrassed.'

'Uhhhh'- she hesitated – 'Kind of pink and frothy, like it's mixed in with spit?'

'Right.' Doctor Parks scooted forwards, taking the stethoscope from around her neck. 'Can you take your sweater off, please? I need to listen to your lungs.'

Nicki paled immediately, butterflies fluttering in her stomach. She couldn't bear for anyone to see the extent of how skinny her limbs had become. Not even herself. And if a doctor did? She'd probably be labelled anorexic or bulimic, and be sectioned. Kyle would be taken off her. Nicki began to panic - visibly.

'Nicki, I'm going to need you to calm down, okay?'

The next thing she knew, Doctor Parks was leaning over her, enunciating her words, voice authoritive. The coloured woman wrapped her hands around Nicki's wrists and guided them to her face. 'That's it, good girl, keep breathing into your hands.' She rubbed her hand on Nicki's knee encouragingly. The brunette's leg tensed uncomfortably under her touch.

'Get OFF ME!' Fury resonating in her voice, Nicki slapped the doctor hard across the face before collapsing back into the seat, panting heavily.

'NICKI!'

Christine burst into the room. Before she could object any further, the doctor leapt back up, grasping Nicki's wrists again. 'Keep breathing into your hands!' Nicki obliged, but turned her back angrily, shoving the doctor off stubbornly.

'What the hell is going on?!' Christine moved towards the younger woman, her protective streak kicking in.

'I would really advise you not to, just while I explain and she calms down-'

'I'll do what I like, thank you!' Christine's accent was thick with indignation. She pushed past Doctor Parks and moved into Nicki's line of sight, speaking softly.

'Nicki? It's Christine. Is it okay if I sit here?' She tapped the arm of the chair gently, and perched there when Nicki nodded silently. The blonde woman slipped an arm around the brunette's shoulders, and Nicki curled up close against her. Christine looked up at the doctor, a sarcastic smirk dancing across her lips.

'Now do you want to explain?'

WRWRWRWRWRWRWRWRWRWRWRWRWRWRWRWRWRWRWRWRWRWRWRWRWRWRWRWRWRWRWRWRWRWRWRWRRWRWRWRWRWRWRWRWR

Christine sighed as the book fell from her fingers, clattering to the floor and closing. She'd lost her place, the thin strip of card which acted as a bookmark was lying on the pillow beside her. The blonde woman picked the paperback up. She settled against the padded headboard, idly using her thumb to flick rapidly through the pages, from cover to cover.

_To Kill a Mockingbird._

It was Christine's favourite book, and had been since her own English teacher glad introduced it to her when she was in year nine. She raised the book to her nose, inhaling the sweet, dusty scent. It had been through plenty of wear-and-tear over the years. Countless times she had dropped it in the bath, spilt tea on it, discovered her beloved cat Monkey using it as a claw file…

There was a sudden tap at the door, and Christine started, eyes flying open and book dropping in her lap. It was Nicki. The brunette pushed the door open quietly, a quick smile darting across her features when she realised Christine was still awake.

'Are you okay?' the blonde ran her fingers through messy hair, slightly self-consciously.  
'Yeah – erm, Kyle woke up and he won't settle. I'm not tired anyway, so I just thought I'd come see if you were up for a chat?'

'That's fine, sure.' Christine tapped the mattress. 'Come sit here.' She watched as Nicki ambled over, and stretched her arms out for Kyle as the brunette sank down beside her. 'Shall I?'

'Please do! I've had enough of him for one day.' Nicki exhaled in relief as Christine took the baby and propped him up. Her eyes fluttered closed for a second.

'Stop that, you're a natural.' Christine's response was barely more than a mumble, though sharply edged with encouragement – and something that sounded like regret.

'Huh?'

'I've been a mother for nearly nineteen years now, and a pretty rubbish one at that. I as good as abused Connor most of his life –even before he was born. Drinking and smoking while I was pregnant… getting drunk, passing out and neglecting him while he was a baby. Connor spent more of his childhood looking after me than I did looking after him. It's only in these last couple of years I've been able to sober up properly and he doesn't even need me anymore. It's like – like – like I missed him growing up…..' Christine glanced over at Nicki, who was watching her with a perplexed expression. 'I guess motherhood comes naturally to some people. You, for example. Definitely not _me.'_

'Hey.' Nicki took Christine's hand and squeezed it reassuringly. 'We all make mistakes. Don't beat yourself up about it.'

'It's a bit difficult to do that, though. I guess the only thing I can do for Connor now is always have his back and never, ever touch the drink again.'

'You've done better than most people. There are thousands of alcoholics who never recover – they can't even understand the concept of drinking only in moderation.'

'Thank you for that...' Christine murmured, gazing down at Kyle, who was still snuggled up contentedly in her arms – chewing sleepily on his hand. She looked up again as he began to fall asleep. 'Seriously Nicki… thank you. It means a lot.'

Their eyes met, and the two woman yawned simultaneously before dissolving into a random fit of laughter.

'Sorry about that.' Christine groaned quietly, hiccoughing the last of her giggles away. 'Maybe we should go to sleep now, eh?'

Nicki nodded, and Christine noticed absently that the brunette's smile had become a little brighter – a little more genuine. 'Kyle and I'll leave you in peace, then, go back to the other room.' She jerked her head towards the door.

'You might as well stay here – I mean, every time you've slept alone since moving here you've had a nightmare. Perhaps if we sleep together the whole night you might not have one? I guess they must be pretty exhausting.'

'Yeah. Yeah, I guess it's worth a try.' Nicki lay down, her son cuddled in closely as Christine flicked the lamp off. 'Thank you.' She breathed the words almost silently into the darkness.


End file.
